Pieces
by SeraphJewel
Summary: Five years have gone by since the explosion that rocked New York. Two broken souls find each other and slowly begin to pick up the pieces. Adam/Peter
1. One

_Disclaimer: I do not own Heroes. I'm just playing with it for fun._

**One**

Eventually all bars looked about the same. Same basic layout, same air, same feeling. Whether it was a pub in England or a bar in Las Vegas, it all came down to the drink in your hand. Locale didn't make a damn bit of difference. The feel of the glass in his hand, the taste of alcohol as it ran across his tongue... those things didn't change.

In a world gone to hell, it was good to know he had little things like that he could depend on.

Five years had gone by now. He recalled the day he first walked into this bar. Back then, he couldn't handle anything stronger than a beer. These days it took something much stronger to have any affect. Drinking in bars quickly became a routine for him. The bartenders were wary of him at first but over time grew used to his presence. One had even chosen to take advantage of the man's intimidating air. That is how he ended up here, leaning against the bar with a drink in his hand.

His eyes scanned this evening's crowd. Rather small, but it usually was on a week day at two in the morning. Only one other person besides himself and the barkeep seemed to be aware, and it was a gentleman sitting alone at a table. Their eyes met across the room and the gentleman gave him a polite nod before knocking down his drink. The table was littered with several other empty glasses.

Intrigued, he pulled away from the bar and approached the stranger. He usually didn't talk to people but it wasn't every day he saw someone who could hold their liquor like that.

"Looks like you've had a lot to drink," he observed.

"So have you," the stranger replied in an English accent. "I was watching." This little confession didn't bother him very much. He was used to people staring at him. He had a fucking scar over his face. Who would blame them for staring? "Are you supposed to be the bouncer... Bruce?"

"What?" The Englishman wordlessly pointed to the nametag that the other forgot he was still wearing. Feeling stupid, he pulled it off. "No, I'm not a bouncer. I'm a bartender."

"Ah... I thought bartenders weren't allowed to drink on the job."

"I'm on break," he said shortly. The Englishman just smiled, propping his legs up on an empty chair. He looked fairly young, possibly in his early thirties, with blonde hair and eyes that held the weight of more years than the rest of him. The man was dressed casually, jeans and a leather jacket over a plain T-shirt. Perhaps it was the accent or the casual way he had knocked down all those drinks, but there was something in this stranger that was very attractive. Especially the eyes. Those eyes took hold of him and held his attention long after he should have looked away.

"Not that you asked," the Englishman drawled, "but my name is Alex."

"Oh, right. Nice to meet you." He held out his hand to shake the other man's. His social interaction skills were basically extinct, but this didn't seem to bother his new acquaintance. Which was a refreshing change.

"A pleasure to meet you as well," Alex replied as he took the offered hand. "I hope that we'll cross paths again."

"Yeah," he agreed as his muscles remembered how to smile. "So do I."


	2. Two

**Two**

Before that terrible day five years ago, he had been known as a caring person. He connected with others and everyone who knew him saw his loving heart. On the day of the explosion, all of that changed. The man everyone knew as Peter Petrelli was destroyed that day along with New York. Peter Petrelli continued to exist after that day but had lost everything that was once attached to his name.

This was one of the reasons why Peter chose to give himself a new name when he came to Las Vegas. Only when someone gained his trust did he reveal his true name. Niki understood why he chose to hide behind a façade: she did the same thing when she put on the name "Jessica". She was probably the only person Peter shared any of his past with.

When Peter met Alex, things started to change. He was the first person Peter thought of as a "friend" since the explosion. He never really allowed himself to get close enough to people. Even with Niki there were parts of himself he walled away. But with Alex, something was different. Peter saw the same detachment in the man's eyes that he saw every morning in his own reflection. They were both disconnected and that was what connected them.

At first they simply "happened" to be in the same place at the same time, so they would sit together. There wasn't much talking since Peter wasn't good at it anymore. Having companionship was enough for both of them. After meeting in the bar Peter worked in and hitting back several drinks for a few nights, the two grew comfortable around each other. It was Alex who chose to break the ice.

"Las Vegas is a fascinating city," he said thoughtfully. "Obviously I'm not originally from here; I highly doubt anyone is these days. Until a few years ago, I was living in New York." Those two words took Peter by surprise enough for him to choke on his drink.

"New York?" he repeated once he could speak again. "So you were--"

"Yes," Alex replied. "The explosion." He took a sip of his drink, calmly ignoring the wide-eyed stare his companion was giving him.

"You survived," Peter said blankly.

"Indeed I did. You could say that makes me... special." The way he emphasized the word made Peter think he meant more by that. Like "special" in the way that could get him hunted by the government.

"Special," Peter repeated. "Guess that makes me special, too."

"Really?" Alex smiled around his glass. "So you're like me. I'm… very glad to hear that."

"So am I," Peter responded. His muscles were still working on the smile but the fact that he felt the desire was a big step forward.

That was all it took for their connection to solidify. They exchanged cell phone numbers and called each other at the most bizarre hours. When he was supposed to be sleeping next to Niki, Peter instead was in the other room talking to Alex. They started with New York since they had the place in common. One would mention a place and the other would recognize it. They discussed New Year's in Times Square, attending shows on Broadway, walking through Central Park, the sites of Greenwich Village, Queens, the Bronx... On and on until they'd utterly exhausted the topic.

Talking about his last home with someone who knew it as well as he made Peter feel less lonely. Finally he had someone he could share this with, and Alex seemed to share the same sad love for the city as Peter. They skirted past the topic of the explosion and moved on to other things. Peter found himself admitting he was once a nurse and Alex revealed he had been a co-founder for a large company. These days Alex worked as a professional gambler. When Peter expressed interest in what exactly that entailed, he was taken to a casino where he was amazed at how good Alex was at card games.

"Is it telepathy?" he asked the man. "Are you reading their minds?"

"No. I've just had many years of experience." It struck Peter then that he had no idea what Alex could do, but of course Alex didn't even know Peter's real name. As close as they were getting Peter wasn't ready to reveal that part of himself.

It didn't matter. Peter found someone he could talk to, could be with, and slowly he was warming up. Niki saw it and was pleased Peter finally seemed to be letting the world in again. In truth Peter had only opened the door for one handsome British man, and only because the older man made it so easy.


	3. Three

**Three**

Like so many great cities, Las Vegas only came to life after dark. It was an easy enough transition for Peter, who had lived under the lights of New York City. Peter had once been a morning person, but after that day he spent so many nights sleepless or battling nightmares that he gradually grew to be a night owl. It turned out that Alex functioned the same way, so many times Peter spent his nights off with the older British man. Sometimes those evenings were spent at a casino, some in seeing a Vegas show, and others they simply sat together in a bar bonding over drinks. Peter preferred the last of those three. It was quiet and it amazed him how he could lose track of time when he was with Alex.

It was during one such quiet evening that the two men approached the subject of being "special". They had both alluded to it and they had thus far had a silent understanding that they both possessed some ability, but what exactly those abilities were had remained a mystery. As always, it was Alex who spoke up first.

"You know, Bruce, you and I have been here for several hours now. Aren't you feeling the least bit inebriated?"

"What about you?" the scarred man retorted. "You've been drinking as much as me."

"So I have," Alex agreed, smiling as he lifted another glass to his lips. "I'm afraid we must face the fact that we're both hopeless alcoholics." He paused to take a slow sip. "How long have you been a drinker?"

"Five years," Peter answered shortly. The older man's eyes were watching him, a smile playing on his lips. Peter could sense there was more to this line of questioning.

"I've been drinking for a much longer time. _Much_ longer." Alex's smile was widening as he spoke. "Though I must say I've never met anyone who can hold their liquor like you can. Other than myself, of course." Peter said nothing, waiting for his friend to continue. He could almost feel what was coming next. "You can heal too, can't you, Bruce?"

"I…" Peter's eyes fell away for a moment, but soon return to lock onto Alex. "Yeah," he admitted. "I can." Alex looked very pleased to hear that and Peter had the impulse to show him everything. "But it's more than that. Watch." He opened his hand and Alex's glass slid across the table. Alex straightened in his chair, watching with amazement as Peter faded from view and reappeared moments later.

"You have more than one ability? How is that possible?"

"I'm like a sponge," Peter answered quietly. "I absorb the abilities of people around me, then recall it later."

"A mimic." Peter had Alex's full attention now. "I've never encountered one before, and I've lived for a very long time."

"How long?" Peter felt compelled to ask.

"Four hundred years." Peter choked in surprise. He searched the man's mind but could tell he was speaking the truth.

"I have to say," Peter commented with a light smirk, "that you look very good for your age."

After that conversation, the bond between the two men grew even stronger. Finally Peter could understand why he saw such disconnection in the British man's eyes. They had both been through terrible things; Alex simply carried far more weight than Peter. The younger man felt his empathy reawaken for Alex. It had been so long since he'd felt this way, but he had never met someone who could understand his brokenness.

Perhaps it was this that drew him to reach out for the older man, to do what had taken him much longer to do with Niki and physically touch him. It was an incredibly simple gesture but Peter didn't usually make physical contact. His hand was tentative as it rested on Alex's shoulder. The older man smiled kindly; somehow he knew how hard this was for Peter. Alex always seemed to be able to understand Peter. He was looking down on the scarred man with a thoughtful look in his eyes. Peter tilted his head up to match the gaze.

Both of them moved at the same time. Peter's hands reached up to touch the other man's face just in time for Alex to bend his head down. Their lips connected and Peter closed his eyes to savor the moment. The kiss felt right. It was almost as if he'd been expecting it ever since they met that night in the bar.

Peter had never kissed another man before. Something that, again, Alex seemed able to sense. His lips were patient, guiding Peter along in slow caresses. It ended only when they needed to breathe.

"Well...," Alex said with a breathless laugh. "That was a pleasant surprise." Peter responded with his first real smile in years.


	4. Four

(Author's note: the following chapter contains sexual content. You've been warned)

**Four**

The kiss they shared that night followed Peter all the way home. They didn't speak about it, or what it might mean for them, all the rest of the evening. It was as if they'd reached a silent understanding to let the full weight of what happened settle before they proceeded. Still, Peter couldn't shake the feeling Alex's kiss gave him.

Peter collapsed into bed and for once didn't have any dreams at all. The day came and he managed to treat it like any other. However, as the day drew on into evening he began feeling the anticipation of seeing Alex again. They saw each other almost every; Peter looked forward to these meetings long before the kiss. Now with that act still fresh in his mind, Peter's eyes constantly searched the bar for signs of the British man.

"Looking for someone?" He turned eagerly at the familiar voice and saw Alex sitting comfortably on a bar stool.

"Just you," Peter responded quietly.

"Really?" Alex tilted his head to the side, a playful smile lurking on his mouth. "Why is that?"

"You know why."

"I'd like for you to tell me."

"Because…" Peter hesitated uncertainly. It was easier for him to talk with Alex than with anyone else he had met since the explosion. Even so, vocalizing his feelings came as a struggle. "I like seeing you, and talking to you. There's just something about you that… draws me." His eyes flickered away from Alex and he turned to get back to work. Alex's hand touched his arm, forcing the scarred man to face him again.

"That's exactly how I feel, love."

"Oh." Alex's hand slid slowly down the young man's arm. The touch had Peter's heart racing until at last the man's hand came to rest on top of Peter's.

"When is your next break?" Alex asked him in a hushed voice.

"Ah…" Peter swallowed, licking his lips. "In a few hours, I think."

"I can wait until then," Alex nodded. He drew his hand away, leaving Peter to wonder.

Usually when Peter was on break, he would sit with Alex at an empty table and talk. This time Alex seemed to have different plans. He took Peter by the arm and led him outside. Before Peter could ask what he wanted Alex was leaning close and his lips were pressing up against the younger man's. He let out a soft sigh of pleasure and closed his eyes. Peter moved his arms up around Alex's shoulders to pull him closer as he began to respond.

Peter never thought he could want something like this. Yet having Alex's arms around him and feeling their bodies pressed together made him ache desperately for more. One hand threaded up into Alex's short hair. Carefully Peter parted his lips and Alex wasted no time in taking the invitation. A shiver ran up the younger man's spine and his fingers twitched, pulling Alex's hair ever so slightly. Alex didn't let this stop him from carefully exploring the scarred man's mouth. Peter began to push back, his own tongue making its daring way past Alex's lips. He could have let this go on forever if he didn't need a moment to catch his breath.

"Jesus," he gasped out. "That…"

"That was amazing," Alex finished for him.

"Yeah," Peter agreed, "it was." He didn't know what to make of all this. All Peter knew was how Alex made him feel, and it was something he hadn't felt in years.

"I can't tell you how long I've been thinking about this," Alex said. "Thinking about you. I never expected…" He paused thoughtfully, his fingers running along Peter's jaw. "I never expected you would want this, too," he admitted.

Peter didn't know what to say in response to that. So instead he tilted his head up and kissed Alex again. Truthfully he never expected he would want this either, but he did. Just as he said, something about Alex drew him to the man.

"You should go back to work, love," Alex reminded him gently. "I'll see you later." Peter nodded and slipped away into the bar.

Many times the two men managed to understand each other without exchanging any words. When Peter left for work Alex was waiting, and they headed off into the street together. Alex steered the younger man toward the street leading to his house. Peter didn't question him or try pulling away.

Alex's flat came equipped with the best a bachelor could buy. He had a flat screen television with a great sound system, large kitchen complete with mini-bar, Laz-E-Boy recliners, and of course a breathtaking view of the city. He even had a pool table. They went through the pretense of touring the place. Before long, however, Peter lost patience and began attacking the man in bruising kisses. Alex's hands slid up between them to wrestle off Peter's shirt. Peter had no idea what the fuck he was doing. Only that he needed this. He clung onto Alex, breathing heavily against the other man's mouth.

Clothes started landing in piles on the floor. Alex left his mouth to press his lips against Peter's neck. His teeth grazed across the scarred man's skin gently at first, and then harder. Peter moaned and tilted his head to the side, his fingernails digging hard into Alex's back leaving angry red marks behind. The way Alex's hands ran over him made his body shiver in excitement. Usually he was quiet during foreplay but Alex drew the noises right out.

The Brit forced him down on the couch. He ran his hand along Peter's thigh and gave the scarred man a questioning look. He didn't have to ask; Peter knew what he wanted. He nodded his head. It was all Alex needed. His body felt like it was burning in impatience and Alex's fingers weren't enough.

"Shit," he breathed. "Just do it. I'll heal."

"All right," Alex conceded. And he did, penetrating into Peter's body. The empath threw back his head with a loud groan. "Oh... god," Alex breathed. Peter had to smile a little; those were his thoughts exactly.

Sex with Niki was never like this. This was rough and intense and oddly freeing. Alex set the tone with the way he rocked into Peter, how his hands moved, how his mouth felt. When Peter bit his ear it was greeted with a pleased moan. Alex pulled the other man's legs up around his hips to get better leverage. Peter hooked an arm around Alex's neck so that each time he came down, Peter could pull himself up.

Then Alex was touching him between his legs. His whole body jerked forward to welcome the skillful hand. "Fuck," he hissed out. "Don't stop," he warned, before Alex could move his hand away. Peter had no clue what to do on his end except to keep up the rough kisses Alex seemed to like so well. One time when Alex moved it felt like Peter's brain was exploding in white bursts of pleasure. He let out a sharp gasp of surprise.

"Bruce?" Alex purred out questioningly. And that killed the mood.

"Don't call me that," the younger man told him. "My real name is Peter."

"Peter," Alex repeated. The way his own name was spoken by that voice... God. He pulled Alex down for a kiss which sparked the mood back up. Alex couldn't go fast enough, Peter couldn't get enough skin, they couldn't kiss passionate enough, it didn't last long enough. When it was over they rested still pressed up close together. Peter wasn't looking forward to getting up and going back out into the world.

"You're bleeding," he noted, lifting a hand to touch Alex's ear. The man responded with a wry smile, his fingers running gently through the young man's hair.

"It's all right," he said. "I'll heal."


	5. Five

**Five**

A cab pulled up in front of the apartment building. Peter slid out, paying the cabbie before heading up the stairs to the building he shared with Niki. He honestly had no idea what time it was nor was he certain whether or not he wanted to face Niki when he opened the door.

Yet there she was sitting at the kitchen table waiting for him. She rose at his entrance, the worried expression on her face quickly shifting to one of annoyance. Peter met her gaze. He knew what he did would hurt her long before he made the decision. In all the time they were together Peter almost wished she would hate him. Now she had a legitimate reason.

"Where were you?" she asked. "I've been worried sick. I thought that…" She stopped there, closing her eyes against whatever horrors she imagined. "I thought you'd been captured."

"No. It was nothing like that."

"You could have called me," she scolded him. She paused and finally took in his full appearance. "Why are you still in your work clothes?"

"I went out with Alex after work," he replied truthfully. Niki never met Alex but Peter spoke about the British man often enough. Never about the important things such as Alex possessing an ability, but about their mutual connection to New York and the time they spent together.

"You were with him all night?" Niki questioned. "What—" Peter waited, and saw realization dawn in the woman's eyes. "Oh, god. How could I be so blind? How could I be so stupid?!"

"It isn't you," Peter told her.

"Obviously not," she snapped out. "It's never been me." Peter didn't know what he could say to her. She would never understand, not even as broken as she was.

"Niki…"

"Just get out, Peter," she said, shaking her head. "Just get the fuck out of here."

Hours later Peter found himself with his head resting on a bar table. The alcohol currently dulled his emotions but he would heal from it in time, and the pain would come back. He cared for Niki; he never wanted to hurt her this way. Hurting people was all he seemed to do.

"Peter?" The sound of his name stirred him out of his thoughts. He lifted his head and stared wordlessly at Alex. There was no telling how long the Englishman had stood there watching him. As usual, neither of them had to speak. Alex seemed to understand everything from the look in Peter's eyes. Alex moved to sit next to the scarred man, pouring himself a drink.

"She found out about us," Peter mentioned. "I hurt her, Alex." His eyebrows twitched and he covered his eyes to try blocking out the wave of sorrow. Peter took a shaky breath and reached for another drink.

"I'm so sorry, love," Alex said soothingly.

"I made my choice, and I lost another person I cared about because of it," Peter told him. He took a sip of his drink, and felt compelled to keep talking. "If we met before, you'd hardly recognize me now. I was so full of hope back then. Stupid dreamy kid with hopes of a bright future. Fuck that." He concluded the thought by emptying his glass.

"I've lost people I care about as well. Far too many for one man to bear." Peter glanced sideways at the man. He had sensed that about Alex the moment they met, but neither had ever talked about it before now. "I think that's why I like you, Peter. You're the only person I've met who knows how it feels to lose everything."

Peter quietly moved closer to his lover, stroking the man's cheek. "It hurt to feel. Drinking was the only thing I could do to get away from it. Then you came along." He bit his lip hesitantly. "I never let anyone get too close to me, not even Niki. I'm so fucking scared I'll just lose them if I do."

"I know exactly what you mean, love," Alex replied gently. "Though I haven't felt that way in a very long time. Then of course I met you. You make me feel something I haven't felt in decades." He shifted them closer still, until Peter could feel the older man's breath teasing his lips. "I love you, Peter."

The empath closed his eyes, his heart aching from those three simple words. Niki was right: it was never her. Even before he knew Alex existed, it had been the Englishman. This was what he'd been waiting for.

"I love you, too," he whispered faintly.


	6. Six

**Six**

Peter destroyed the place he called "home" five years ago. Everything that he once treasured was now gone. Sure he found a place and lived there with Niki. But he could never think of that place as a home. They were too busy hiding for him to feel at ease. Peter honestly believed he would never accept a place as home again. Then Alex invited him to move into the flat.

What was it about this man that made Peter feel less broken inside? It was as if spending time with Alex was slowly healing him. Alex had seen more horrors, death and pain than any human should be forced to bear. He lost hope centuries ago. Peter found he needed someone like that, because only a person who went through as much as Alex could accept what Peter did in New York.

That first time together had been another desperate attempt to escape. But every time after that had been a desperate need to connect. Peter went for so long without any physical contact. He and Niki had sex, but never like this. This was needy, and aching, and full of passion he hadn't expressed in years. Alex made him feel safe enough to let his guard down.

Alex decided they needed to celebrate their first night living together in style. Peter didn't need anything fancy, as he tried to explain to his lover, but Alex insisted on it. It didn't matter anyway, since the two of them abandoned the candles and wine for the bedroom. Peter knew it was more than just his years of avoiding human contact that made Alex's touch especially potent; it was the man himself. Whether it was a harsh bite or a tender caress, it didn't matter. It made Peter ache for more either way.

"Fuck," he breathed out, digging hard into Alex's shoulders. "Oh, god." His leg slid up around Alex's waist to get better leverage. He felt his partner stop and his eyes fluttered open. "What?" he demanded.

"You never say my name," Alex replied. He didn't sound upset about it. Just thoughtful.

"Well... Alex can't be your real name," Peter said awkwardly, turning his head away. He wondered if he'd upset his lover, somehow.

"I haven't used my real name in a very long time." Alex's mouth started pressing kisses along Peter's neck. That alone resulted in an excited gasp from the empath. He closed his eyes, craning his neck as an offering. "I have called myself many things. Takezo Kensei, Richard Sanders, Adam Monroe…. It doesn't matter anymore what you call me."

Alex went back to what he was doing and effectively drove the subject from Peter's mind. Until he found the impulse to moan again. And the name just slipped out: "Adam." Why his mind chose that name over the others, he couldn't be sure.

Peter cracked his eyes open, watching for his lover's reaction. The older man hovered over his body, looking at him thoughtfully.

"Adam?" Peter tried again tentatively.

"Hmm," purred the older man. "I changed my mind. It does matter." He gazed down at the scarred man, his eyes dark in that predatory gleam that made Peter moan softly in anticipation. "I love the way you say that."

"Adam," Peter whispered, arms sliding up around the man's neck to pull his body closer. "Adam, Adam, Adam." He murmured the name over and over against his lover's mouth. The name sounded right to him, and he could feel his lover shudder a little on top of him.

"God, Peter."

He could only respond with a kiss to Adam's mouth. The older man responded and the two moved together to bring each other to that beautiful climax. When it ended he willingly turned into Adam's arms as they circled around him. Peter felt safe here, and amazingly free, and something more.

He felt at home.


	7. Seven

Disclaimer: The quotes used in this chapter are from Shakespeare's "Midsummer Night's Dream".

**Seven**

_Five years ago…_

"If we shadows have offended, think but this and all is mended: that you have but slumbered here while these visions did appear."

The words flowed out of him, following his steps as he paced the small cell. Most days the only companion he had was his own voice. That is, of course, when one of his former allies didn't drop by to mock him with their freedom or he wasn't being dragged off for experiments. Then of course there was the occasional visit from Elle Bishop. Her fingers sending sparks through his skin ranged from mild annoyance to pure torture. He'd lost count of how many times he'd been killed by these people.

Thirty long years he spent in this cell. In that time, Adam Monroe had memorized every tile of the floor, every brick of the walls. He tried to break out numerous times but they were all futile in the end. Even after his so-called friends were all dead he would still be locked here. That was their way of punishing him for what he had done: to be trapped here forever, with nothing and no one to hold on to.

This was the only thing he could do to keep his mind from raveling. To keep his memories sharp, even if he had to rattle off every piece of literature his eyes had ever come across in the process. He wouldn't allow himself to forget. On the miraculous chance that he ever escaped from here, he wanted his mind and body to be strong enough to take revenge.

"And this weak and idle theme, no more yielding but a dream."

He stopped there. The door's locks clicked open and he turned to see who was coming to visit. Daniel Linderman stepped into the cell and Adam's mildly curious expression transformed into a distasteful sneer.

"Well, hello, Daniel," he greeted. "I see you still haven't shaved off that beard."

"Hello, Adam," the physically older-looking man returned. "Quoting Shakespeare again?"

"I was feeling nostalgic," the immortal replied curtly. "So, are you going to tell me what you want or shall we continue this idle banter?"

"Getting right to the point," Daniel observed with a nod. "Very well, then. I just thought I would say goodbye to my old friend."

"Goodbye?" Adam echoed. "Are you going somewhere, Daniel?"

"Oh, yes, I'll be leaving New York very soon, and I don't expect I'll be coming back." Adam frowned thoughtfully, his eyes fixed on his old friend. He knew Daniel very well and could see that there was more meaning behind his words. "Nor will anyone else, for that matter," Daniel added.

"You're abandoning it?" Adam's eyes narrowed darkly. Even after all his former allies did to twist the Company for their own purposes, he still thought of the place as his brainchild. "We built this place together. All those years, all the work that's gone into it… Why now, Daniel?"

"I can't be affiliated with this place," the other man explained, his lips curling into a smile. "Not any longer. Something is going to happen very soon and I can't have any incriminating evidence hanging around for someone to stumble on."

Adam knew exactly what Daniel meant by that. This was _his_ building, _his_ company, and the bastard was going to destroy it! Adam snarled in rage and grabbed Daniel, slamming him hard against the wall.

"You bastard! How dare you destroy what we all built up together?!"

"Calm down, Adam, or I won't tell you the rest of my plan."

Adam let out an angry snort. He didn't let go, but curiosity got the better of him so he eased back just a little. "What plan?" he asked grudgingly.

"The one to cleanse the world, of course. Things are even worse now than they were thirty years ago. I have a plan to unite the people of the world after a tragic event. You remember that dream, I'd imagine."

Of course Adam would remember. Four long centuries now he fought to change history. In that time he saw the world spiral farther into chaos as people grew more corrupt, slowly destroying the world and each other. He took the steps to give humanity a second chance. Unfortunately, the others who had until then swore their loyalty and believed in him turned against him. Adam still felt bitter and angry about it thirty years later.

"My plan is… shall we say, a perfected version of your idea. Your methods were far too severe. With my plan, it will be a much more isolated incident while still creating the same result."

"Get to the point, Daniel," Adam snapped impatiently.

"There's a bomb," the other man told him. "It's set to go off very soon. It's going to detonate in New York City. Millions of lives will be lost; it will be a great tragedy." Daniel paused to stare at his mentor thoughtfully. Clearly he expected some sort of positive reaction from the immortal, possibly even congratulations.

Daniel would have to deal with the disappointment. Far from pleased, Adam felt rather pissed off that his idea was being taken up again after all the grief it caused him. But perhaps that was the reaction Daniel hoped for all along.

"A bomb," Adam repeated. He pushed away from his protégé in annoyance. "That's your big plan to cleanse the world. One bomb, in one city."

"Yes," Daniel replied calmly. "Uniting the world through tragedy was a marvelous idea, Adam, there's no doubt about that. But with my plan, we have one tragic moment. There won't be any drawn-out suffering; it will all happen in an instant. I already have someone in place who will lead us once the dust has settled." He paused, still watching Adam thoughtfully. "Point zero seven percent. That's how many will lose their lives to the cause. A much more acceptable loss than your plan."

"I see." Adam crossed the cell, taking a seat on the bed and letting his legs stretch out. To him, this whole idea seemed rather tame in comparison to his own idea. Still, a part of him felt pleased that Daniel hadn't completely stopped believing in it. "So you're going to pay someone to make a bomb, and set it off in the middle of the city. Is that it?"

"The bomb is already made," Daniel answered with a smirk, "and it's ticking away as we speak. The plan is in motion and there's nothing to stop it now. That's why I have to take care of my business here before I leave town. After the bomb goes off, I can't have anything linking me to a place like this."

Adam said nothing, brewing silently. Daniel crossed back over to the door. He paused there, turning back to give the immortal one last look.

"I know how attached you are to this place, Adam," he said. "So I think it only fitting you be here to witness its destruction. A captain should go down with his ship." With that he turned away, the door slamming closed behind him.

Adam let out a deep sigh. There was nothing he could do now but sit in his cell and wait. Flames erupted in the research facility in what would later be called a freak accident in the laboratory. Adam couldn't escape his cell. Smoke seeped into his lungs and the fire licked away at his skin. He gritted his teeth and waited for the metal on the door to melt enough to kick his way out. He knew the facility well enough to stumble his way through the heavy smoke.

It was difficult to breathe. With every gasp his head swam and his lungs became more desperate. His skin attempted to repair itself even as it burned away under the flames. The pain was nearly impossible to bear. The world tilted sideways and he lost his footing, collapsing to the ground. Things grew very dark, and then he was gasping the fresh air again. He could feel his body becoming whole again. He coughed out the remnants of smoke, pushing himself to his feet. Behind him were the smoking remains of his company. Nothing remained of the building he put so much care and effort in. One more reason for his former friends to die.

Not once in the thirty years he'd been imprisoned did he ever lose track of time. He knew exactly what day, month and year it was there on the outside. Today was November eighth in the year 2006.

Somewhere in New York City, perhaps at that very moment, a bomb was wiping out millions of people. And the world would never be the same.


	8. Eight

**Eight**

_Four years ago…_

They called for final bets. Unsurprisingly, the handsome blonde stayed in along with several other daring souls. All seemed more or less confident that theirs was the better hand. One by one they set down their cards for the entire table to see. Smirking, the blonde revealed his hand and claimed the pot. Those who had lost let out a quiet groan of disappointment while the gathered crowd applauded the man's good fortune. Mercifully, once he claimed his winnings the blonde rose from the table to take his gambling elsewhere.

Alexander Diodorus was a familiar face in casinos. The handsome man first came to Vegas roughly a year ago. Since that time he turned into one of the most popular high-rollers on the strip. People loved coming to watch him play poker. He hadn't made it to a tournament yet but he could very easily, and until that time al the casinos clamored for his business.

Las Vegas easily accepted this new identity Adam formed for himself after he escaped from Hartsdale. It was always the sort of town that asked few questions, and after the explosion in New York more people than ever were searching for new identities away from the tragedy. For Adam it was easy to make up a new name and back story, having done it so many times in the past. The only disadvantage was missing out on thirty years of culture and technological advancements. He was forced to take time to reacquaint himself with the world before fully going into it.

Adam Monroe effectively died the day of the Hartsdale fire. Now he was Alexander Diodorus, a mixture of English and Greek heritage living in Las Vegas. He owned a flat there in the city and made his living as a professional gambler. Everything from the life stolen from him thirty years ago was gone in one form or another. His last wife died, after remarrying and producing grandchildren. His beloved company was destroyed, and his fellow founders dead or soon on their way. Very soon, if Adam had anything to say about it.

"Mr. Diodorus?" He turned at the sound of his new name. After centuries of changing his identity, it was easy for him to adjust. It was the manager of the casino calling to him, and Adam knew what the man would ask before the words came out. "Will you be staying with us at the hotel tonight, sir?"

"Not tonight, I think," he responded courteously. "Perhaps another time."

"All right. But know that you're always welcome here."

"Thank you." Adam smiled lightly and headed out into the Vegas night. He lit a cigarette and took in a deep breath. He'd been surprised to learn how many discouraged smoking when it'd been so popular for centuries. Of course _he_ never had to worry about the health concerns attached to the habit.

He passed by a group of street-walkers and decided to take one home with him. Thirty years of solitude made him yearn for any kind of human companionship. He would never allow himself to become attached to a person again, but a good fuck never hurt. It was actually better for him that the whore simply went through the motions of sex. She didn't care as long as she got her money and all Adam wanted was sexual release. It turned out to be a satisfying arrangement.

Later Adam stretched out on the couch and flipped through the television channels. His sleep patterns had grown erratic during his stint in Hartsdale, and even before that he never needed sleep quite as much as a normal person. Adam never liked television much but he hated silence more. His company for the evening padded into the room.

"I'm going if you're done," she announced.

"That's fine," he responded. His eyes didn't even glance her way. She hovered as if waiting for something. "I already paid you," he reminded her.

"Cab fair?" she suggested.

"I gave you four hundred dollars in cash," he said testily. "Pay your own damn cab. Or just wander the streets and wait for someone else to pick you up."

"God, you're such a bastard," she snorted, storming off to get her clothes.

"And you're a whore," he returned. "I suggest if you want someone to pick up your cab fair, you do better at your job. I've fucked much better than you."

"Asshole!" she snapped before slamming the door shut.

His evenings often ended like that, when he felt the need to have anyone with him. Other times he found a channel and let the television drone on. Tonight Adam stood out on the balcony feeling the breeze brush against him. The lights of Vegas drowned out any possibility of stars but Adam found the open air to be more than enough. He didn't really want anyone to share it with. He had too many loved ones taken away from him by illness or the passage of time.

Adam had been hurt far too many times. Never again.

His ears caught the name "Petrelli" and he instinctively turned to go back inside to catch whatever show was on.

"New York senator and favored presidential candidate Nathan Petrelli will be visiting Las Vegas later this week to attend the funeral of business tycoon Daniel Linderman," the reporter announced. "Mr. Linderman was a family friend of the Petrellis and a strong supporter after the tragedy in New York." The television flashed a picture of Senator Petrelli standing beside Linderman. Adam grew much more interested in the broadcast now. He remembered Nathan well, though of course the boy was very young at the time.

"My god," Adam said quietly. "He looks just like his father."

"Also attending the funeral will be Senator Petrelli's mother," the reporter continued. "No word yet whether the senator will be giving any interviews during his stay. However, the hope is high that he will give a few words regarding Sylar's explosion and the senator's plans for preventing such an act from happening again."

Adam changed the channel; he'd heard enough. Initially he only killed Daniel to avenge himself for the loss of thirty years and his beloved company, but now there were even more reasons why the man's death was justified. Adam learned that the bomb Daniel boasted about was a person with abilities, this man referred to as Sylar. Now the secret Adam and his friends fought to keep hidden from the world was out in the open, and the world feared their kind because Daniel allowed this Sylar to go nuclear.

Angela Petrelli clearly had a hand in the whole scheme. Adam knew the woman well enough to guess that much. Now she was on her way to Las Vegas. It looked like Angela had just volunteered herself as the next one to die.


	9. Nine

**Nine**

"Once upon a time, there was a beautiful kingdom. In that kingdom lived a wild man who drowned himself in liquor and only raised his sword in exchange for wealth. One day the wild man found a magical sword in the snow. When he extracted this sword he found it imbued him with great power. However, he had no skills and so could not use the sword for its true purpose.

"The wild man met a dragon along his travels. The dragon offered to teach the man all the ways of the sword. The man agreed, and with the dragon's help he mastered the sword and gained all the power it promised. With it the man became a great hero. He fought against many evils, saving villages and taking on great quests to prove his bravery and strength. The man even won the heart of the princess and loved her very deeply.

"One day the dragon came before the man, demanding payment for all he taught. His required price was the princess. The man stood before the dragon, drawing out his blade and cutting out his own heart. He presented it to the dragon, saying, 'My love is here. Take it'. And with that, he died."

"What kind of story is that?" his lover complained. The two were stretched out on the bed with the sheets strewn over their naked bodies. Their hands were linked together and the younger man's head rested on Adam's shoulder.

"You can't expect them all to be happy, love," the immortal scolded fondly, the fingers of his other hand moving lazily along his lover's bare chest. Since the day they met he'd been attracted to Peter. The boy possessed such natural good looks, and he was the only person Adam ever knew who could understand how it felt being broken by grief and time.

Peter shifted in bed so he rested on his side. Adam watched in mild curiosity, his fingers continuing their gentle travel over the boy's body. Peter pressed a kiss to Adam's neck, carefully making a line down to the older man's chest. Pleasant shivers rippled through his body. When they started this, Peter was uncertain and a little clumsy. Now he showed confidence whenever they were intimate and Adam loved watching the boy gain more experience.

"I can feel your heart beating," Peter whispered, his breath teasing Adam's skin.

"It was a metaphor, love," Adam explained patiently.

"I know." He felt another soft kiss feather right over the place where his heart beat. Adam swallowed, letting go of Peter's hand so he could comb through the boy's hair. He felt so content here. Why he had to wait four hundred years for this he couldn't understand, but he finally had it now.

Adam gently pushed Peter back, bending his head down to capture the empath's mouth in a kiss. They didn't have sex every night but it was very frequent. Tonight they started out talking with each other. Adam loved the sound of Peter's voice and Peter seemed to love listening to him. Adam didn't need sex to enjoy Peter, but it certainly helped that they both couldn't keep their hands off each other.

Sharing the story of Kensei and the Dragon brought up so many other things about Adam's past he still kept hidden. That he shared this much was a big step forward; he never trusted anything else with that information. Peter knew about Adam's thirty-year imprisonment at Hartsdale, and who'd been responsible, but Adam still hadn't mentioned the virus or that he killed Peter's mother.

How could he have possibly known he would meet Peter Petrelli years later, and fall helplessly in love with the boy? Adam regretted very few things in his life, and a large part of him still felt fully justified in killing that woman. However, for the first time he felt he had to apologize. He wondered if his lover would ever forgive him for it.

Adam ended their kiss, fingers running along Peter's jaw. He was rewarded by a slight smile from the younger man. Peter's hand rested over Adam's heart to feel it beating against his touch. Adam could heal from any wound, but only with Peter was he able to heal from the most painful cut of them all. Adam smiled, brushing his lips over the boy's scar.

"Don't," Peter said. His eyebrows twitched and he turned his head away from the older man. Adam watched him patiently but the boy didn't turn back to meet his eyes.

"Peter…" Fingers combed through his hair and it was that feeling that encouraged him to meet his lover's eye. Adam smiled softly, fingers continuing their gentle progression through the dark hair. Peter leaned forward a little into the touch. Adam met him halfway, their lips connecting in a kiss.

Peter let out a soft sigh of contentment. His hands moved to bring the immortal closer. Adam moaned softly in approval, his own hands winding around the boy's body. He loved how their bodies fit together. Like puzzle pieces to form a complete picture. Adam parted from their kiss to press his lips against Peter's forehead. The younger man quickly jerked back as if he'd been burned.

"I said don't," he snapped irritably.

"Peter, honestly, why do you always pull away?" Adam complained.

"My scar," the other responded. "I don't like… it being touched." He turned away again, feeling self-conscious.

"And why is that?" Adam asked him.

"I know it's an ugly deformity," Peter said, tracing the cut with a finger. "People always stare at it. And it won't heal away."

"So I noticed," Adam nodded. Silence hung between the two men, then Adam spoke again. "Are you ever going to tell me how you got it?"

"I don't know." Peter let out a sigh. "It was so long ago. It doesn't really matter anymore. Nothing's going to change it."

"If it doesn't matter, then let me touch it." Peter hesitated but eventually turned to face Adam once again. He couldn't seem to resist the immortal, a quality Adam found very charming in the lad. Adam smiled and leaned forward to press a kiss on Peter's scar. The younger man twitched but didn't pull away. Adam continued his slow kisses, following the path cutting into Peter's skin. He didn't like that the mark cut into Peter's beautiful skin, and he wished his blood could make it go away. But this scar was a part of Peter now, and Adam loved it as much as the rest of his boy.

"Don't." Peter closed his eyes, the word choking out barely above a whisper.

"Don't what, love?" Adam purred.

"… Don't stop," Peter whispered back.

Adam smiled slowly. He was more than happy to obey that request. Adam found he couldn't resist Peter, either.


	10. Ten

**Ten**

His sleep pattern grew sporadic long ago. The fact that his body constantly renewed itself made sleeping a moot point. As a soldier he learned to keep one eye open, always alert in case of a night ambush. Then Hartsdale screwed with whatever form of normalcy still existed in his body's rhythm. Day and night were unknowns, indistinguishable from each other. He slept when he felt tired. Five years passed by since he escaped from those walls yet his body couldn't be taught anything different.

Tonight found him just as many other nights did, lying awake as the hours ticked on by. He was calm and relaxed, and for once only stayed awake to enjoy the night. His partner's steady breathing soothed him. Adam tilted his head to the side, smiling down on the sleeping boy curled up beside him. Peter's head tucked comfortably in the cook of Adam's neck, his arm draped across the immortal's torso. Adam loved watching Peter sleep. He could spend hours at a time doing just that.

Peter shifted in his sleep, almost as if he could hear Adam thinking of him. Adam ran his fingers soothingly through the boy's dark hair. This action didn't do any good, as Peter's sleeping grew more distressed. The boy's body twitched restlessly and he let out a soft groan. Then he let out a sudden cry and his eyes shot open.

"Peter?" Adam's worried eyes met with his lover's fearful ones. "What is it?" Adam asked him in a gentle whisper. "What did you see?" He recognized the expression as the same one Angela would adopt whenever she awoke from one of her dreams. Trembling, Peter turned away from his lover's searching gaze. The younger man slipped out of bed, pulling on his pants and headed into the kitchen.

Adam entered the kitchen a few minutes later. He knew prophetic dreams could be sometimes very troubling or frightening but for Peter to closes up like this both annoyed and concerned him. He sat down in a chair, his eyes fixed on his lover. Peter poured two cups of coffee, adding creamer into his and sliding over the other for Adam.

"Well?" Adam prompted at last.

"Do you know what tomorrow is?" Peter asked him, sipping at his coffee. Adam glanced idly toward the calendar.

"November the eighth," he answered.

"November the eighth," Peter repeated. Silence hung in the air while the immortal waited for his lover to go on.

"It's just a day, love," Adam told him patiently.

"No, it isn't." Peter's fingers closed in around his cup, squeezing his eyes shut. "It was five years ago, Adam. Five years…" His finger ran thoughtfully over the scar cutting across his face. He opened his eyes, meeting Adam's across the table. The immortal never saw his lover look so frightened.

"That's when you got that, isn't it?" Adam asked him in a hushed voice, reaching to follow Peter's finger down the scar. "In the explosion." Peter said nothing, but Adam knew his guess was right. Tenderly Adam pulled the empath forward and pressed kisses down his lover's scar until he reached the boy's lips. Peter kissed him back with a needy sort of desperation. Adam happily answered the kisses, returning them in hunger as he nibbled on Peter's lips.

Adam didn't need telepathic abilities to know his lover still felt upset about the dream. Something about the future frightened him, and the way his lips pressed against Adam's suggested it was something very bad indeed. Adam didn't question it any further, knowing Peter would talk about it when he felt ready.

Peter slid from his chair into Adam's lap, straddling his lover as he sought for more intense kisses. Adam's hands carefully slid up his lover's bare back, smiling as he felt Peter arch under his touch. He could feel something hungrier and more desperate in Peter. They always shared an intensity when they were together, but this… It almost made Adam feel afraid. Peter's hand slid into his clothes and started stroking his member slowly.

"Peter…" His breath hitched and he jerked under the touch. "Why are you so afraid? Just tell me."

"I love you," the scarred man responded quietly, rocking up against his lover as his fingers continued working. "I haven't loved someone for so long. I didn't want to get close. But now… the thought of being away from you, not having you here with me… That's what scares me."

"Is that what you saw?" Adam asked, trying to move his hands soothingly over his lover's back. "That I leave you? I wound never do that, love. Not having you frightens me too." He pulled Peter down to kiss him. He shifted, feeling Peter tug at his pants.

Adam never saw Peter take control like this before. Any other time he would've been thrilled, but he couldn't shake the worry egging at his mind. Even as Peter impaled himself and started rocking slowly against the immortal. Adam loved that Peter would need him with such desperate intensity. Still… Adam worried.

He carried Peter off to the bedroom so they could make love properly. Peter needed him for this, to take away the fear of his dream. Adam never loved anyone the way he loved Peter. He wanted Peter to be happy, and would do anything to make that happen. After it was over and they were both utterly spent Adam held his boy tightly in his arms.

"I love you, Peter," he whispered softly. "I'm not going anywhere, I promise."

"You may not have a choice," Peter murmured back, his face pressed into Adam's shoulder. The immortal pushed him away a little, gently combing his fingers through the empath's hair.

"What do you mean? Are you talking about the dream?" Peter nodded silently. "What is it?" Adam urged him. "Love, please just talk to me. Whatever it is, we'll get through it. Tell me what happens." Peter swallowed, his eyes slowly moving up until they focused on Adam's face. He leaned forward almost as if afraid of speaking too loudly.

"Sylar."


	11. Eleven

**Eleven**

In hindsight, Adam admitted to himself that he should have known better. He should _not_ have left Peter alone. Not today of all days. When he stepped into the room and found Peter with an unconscious Hiro Nakamura, he knew this was going to end badly.

"What the bloody hell is going on?" he demanded. Peter turned at his lover's voice. He waved off the other Asian man before rising to his feet and approaching Adam. The immortal waited with his arms crossed tightly over his chest.

"Adam, I… they came to me for help."

"And of course, you agreed," Adam finished, his lip curling.

"What else was I supposed to do? Just let them be captured?"

"Why not?" Adam couldn't mask the rage he was feeling. Seeing Hiro again brought it all back. Peter exhaled a sigh and took Adam by the arm, steering him away so their conversation wouldn't be overheard.

"I'm sorry if this upsets you, Adam, but it was the right thing to do."

"Fine." Adam still didn't like this, but he could accept it. "But I want that man out of our house as soon as possible." A silence hung in the air and Peter stared at him uneasily.

"About that. Adam, I… I think I should go with them." Before Adam could voice his protest, Peter quickly explained his reasons. "Hiro needs my help getting in to National Security. His younger self time-traveled here from some point in the past."

That changed the situation entirely. Though certainly not for the better. Adam turned away and slammed his fist into the wall. He screamed out a few profane words in Japanese, leaving Peter stunned as he watched his lover rage.

"Of course," Adam finally snarled out in English. "I should have been expecting nothing less from that stupid carp." He took in a few heavy breaths and finally noticed Peter gaping at him. "Do you remember the story I told you, love? Kensei and the Dragon?" Peter nodded, the understanding light in his eyes telling he already connected the dots. "Hiro traveled to my time long ago, before I even knew I had an ability. He befriended me and led me on a path to becoming a hero. But then, he hurt me in the worst way possible by taking away the woman I loved."

"I never fully recovered from that blow," Adam continued. "Not until I met you. But now Hiro is here threatening to take it away from me again, and I can't…" His voice caught in his throat. Peter wordlessly drew closer and Adam pulled him in, pressing possessive kisses against the scarred man's face and neck. "I can't lose you," Adam hissed out. "I won't. I won't let him take you from me."

"Adam…" Peter's lips met Adam's desperate search and he held onto the embrace, his fingers digging tight into the older man's shirt. He had felt this same fearful desperation only yesterday and understood it all too well. "Listen to me. What if this Hiro from the past is one who hasn't traveled back to meet you yet? If we don't send him back I might be the one losing you."

Adam hated to admit it, but Peter raised a good point. There really was no telling where in his personal timeline Hiro was coming from. What he hated to admit even more was the truth that without Hiro's influence, Adam wouldn't be standing here with Peter. Which of course wasn't to say that Hiro would ever be forgiven for what he did. But at the same time, he was an important piece in Adam's history. A piece that would have to be maintained whether Adam liked it or not.

"You're right," he conceded. "I'm just afraid, that's all. What if he goes back and changes things in a way where we aren't together?" Peter's eyes lowered away from Adam's briefly before flickering back up again. The empath wrapped his arms around his lover's neck and pulled him in for a kiss.

"No matter what happens, we'll find a way to each other again," he whispered. "I know it."

---

The younger Hiro stood wide-eyed watching his older self crumble to the ground. Peter's heart pounded hard in his chest. He closed the door with a wave of his hand. Adam stood by with his arms crossed over his chest. He had a grim, satisfied look on his face as he gazed down on the older Hiro's body. Peter turned to say something to his lover when suddenly a hand phased through the door and grabbed him, pulling him through to the other side.

The force skidded him across the floor until he came to rest a few feet away. Stunned, he gaped at the man who had pulled him. Nathan straightened his tie before crossing the distance between them.

"Brother versus brother," he said. "It's almost biblical."

"My brother can't go through walls," Peter argued as he rose to his feet. "Who are you?" Before his eyes the image shifted. Peter sucked in a breath, his insides running cold.

"An old friend," Sylar responded with a smile. The fear in his eyes must have betrayed him, for Sylar's smile grew even wider. "What's the matter? Not what you were expecting?"

"…Actually, this was exactly what I was expecting," Peter answered shakily. His eyes couldn't help but dart anxiously to the door where he left Adam. Sylar turned to follow his line of vision, but Peter quickly ignited his hands to bring Sylar's attention back. That did the trick, but Sylar was still smiling when he focused on Peter.

"You're hiding something from me, Pete. And as soon as I kill you, I'm going to find out what it is." Peter's blood boiled and the fire glowed brighter in his outstretched palms. Sylar held out his own hand where an icy glow appeared.

Peter was not going to let his dream come true. He would make sure Sylar was the one to die here. The two approached each other, bright flashes of red and blue crashing between them. There were screams but the howling was so loud Peter wasn't sure who it was coming from.

The light grew brighter and hotter and the howls echoed in Peter's ears. The heat seared his skin, burning into his vision. There was a loud crash almost like an explosion and the resulting shockwave sent Peter flying through the air.


	12. Twelve

**Twelve**

_Four months later…_

The bar was almost completely empty when he stepped in. Aside from the sleepy bartender, perhaps no more than a handful of people sat nursing drinks. More than likely they were insomniacs like himself drinking their way through the late night. He ordered a drink and sat crouched at the bar. Tipping his drink back, he closed his eyes and let out a deep sigh feeling the alcohol slide down his throat.

Some things never changed. It was assuring to know he still had this one anchor.

"I think you've had enough, friend," a voice from behind him said.

"Yeah?" he snorted. "And who're you, the bartender?" He turned to face the stranger and felt his heart stop in his chest.

For a minute the two men stared at each other, wide-eyed and breathless. Then, cautiously, he rose from his seat. His shaking fingers reached out to brush against the other man's cheek. The skin felt warm under his touch. The other man's lips pulled into a smile and he nuzzled against the hand.

Without a word the two drew together in a kiss. It had been so long and the embrace quickly grew desperate, his fingers threading up into the short hair as he felt the other man's arms wrap around his body tightly. He didn't care if they were drawing stares; they were together, and that was all that mattered.

"Finally," he breathed out when they pulled back for air. He took in the man's face again: the familiar blue eyes, the short blonde hair, all of it just as he remembered.

"I thought I lost you," Adam whispered, pressing his face to the younger man's neck. His soothing English accent made Peter feel at home again for the first time in months.

Peter felt too overwhelmed to speak. He'd been searching for Adam ever since that day he faced Sylar. As the days wore on without any sign of his lover Peter began to lose hope. But now he was back in Adam's arms, where he always knew he belonged.

"I told you, didn't I?" he finally managed to say. "I told you that no matter what happened we would find our way back to each other."

"You did," Adam agreed. His fingers combed gently through the scarred man's hair. He bent his head down to press light kisses along Peter's scar. It wasn't so long ago that Peter would've recoiled from such a gesture, but now it sent pleasant tingles up his spine.

"I love you," he murmured, tipping his head up to catch Adam's mouth in another kiss.

"I love you too, Peter," Adam responded, keeping their lips close and his arms secured around the younger man. "Never leave me again."

"Never," Peter agreed.

Four months was too long. They found a hotel so they could remember each other's bodies again. Peter's fingers and mouth took in every inch of the immortal just to be sure this was all real, and not just a very vivid dream. Adam seemed to be thinking along the same lines as his hands mapped out Peter's skin.

They could make up for the time spent apart. All those lonely hours fearing they might never have this again could be forgotten. They could come together just as they did before and make each other whole again.

And this time, there was nothing left to tear them apart.


End file.
